Long Labor of love Poems
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Poetry as well as writing are both gifts and labors of love.
Jesus Christ has freely bestowed upon me his gifts of
Writing and poetry. I am primarily an inspirational/
Christian poetic writer. It is plain to see poetic/
Creative writing are my passions. And one of my major
Reasons for existing on planet earth.
Using poetry/writing as part of a time capsule. In order
For any future unborn generations. May discover and
Perceive their very own literary legacy. By desiring to
Make an impact and a difference in the literary circles.
Shaping and molding younger writers, and my peers
To uncover their own goals, hopes, dreams and planes.
Writing for the both the enrichment and amusement.
Are working together. Simultaneously in prefect harmony
And Creativity. Working together hands in. "Hands across
The water and hands across the sky,"The Beatles.
Often used exclusively for spreading the good news.
And informative news of the life Saving gospel.
Courtesy of my beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ is my bright and shining candlestick. He
Is my brightly shining candle light. Illuminating the
Darkness in a sin stained world!
Turning on the Lamp of his lighthouse! Guiding ships
Into their Harbor of perfect security and safety. Entering
Their Home port of operation. And welcoming their
Loved ones safely back home once more again!
He is the Sanctuary of my life. He is my BFF, my very best
Friend. In the entire world I exist in! He is my guiding
Candlelight by morning, noon and night. When things
In my life go upside down. Jesus Christ sets things
Upside right!
He has bestowed his free gift upon other Christian
Poets and writer. Who know about writing and the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. Than will be revealed to me
In my entire earthly life.
Who far surpass me in Their very own ability and
Creativity. I do not compare myself To anybody else.
For I can Never measure to their professional quality
Standards!
But Christians, everywhere through out, the world.
Are spreading the good news of the gospel of
Jesus Christ! "Turn on the light house. Turn on
The lighthouse." Leaving it on morning, noon,
And night. Who love their beloved Jesus Christ!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 12, 2020
I feel my ears pop,
As the light above me increases ...
Columns of purple sunshine shimmer and dance.
I swim up out of the cool, inky blackness of the depths,
And finally reach the surface, head bobbing like a balloon,
Frilly slits on my neck closing up and sealing, as I switch to breathing air.
I suck the thick oxygen atmosphere deep into my lungs, then exhale.
The detritus from my gills comes up with the first breath, and I spit it away,
(Small creatures that follow me, gobble it up hungrily ... nothing wasted).
I need not struggle swimming on the surface here -
The water's high saline level helps me float without effort,
So I lay back and stretch, relaxing my length, as if in a chaise lounge.
The bright purple sky dances with clouds, (and a couple of bright stars),
Two blood-red suns now low, nearing the horizon.
Though they never set, they do crimp the reach for many hours,
Before climbing again to make the sky near-blue.
Clouds are rarely white, (only when the suns are high),
But vary in shades from crimson to pink,
Again, depending on the time of day and moisture content.
I live above AND below the water here ...
My genetic alterations, (very expensive, thus),
Allow me to extract oxygen from air and water, easily transitioning.
I have long webbed toes and fingers to swim speedily,
Eyes that can detect ultraviolet and infrared,
And something similar to sonar, that I can search the depths with,
And also use to tap into the communication satellites,
As well as send personal messages to others here such as I,
Who have chosen the amphibious life of this purple planet.
I have a house back on the island, with all amenities,
But I rarely go there, choosing instead to spend most of my time
On or near the water, searching the depths for the edibles,
Or sleeping on the beach under the stars,
Composing music and poetry during the day, or visiting friends.
I send my work out onto the inter-world web,
It earns me enough to remain comfortable ... and happy.
But what I love the most, are the other intelligent creatures here ...
Most are "sea" dwellers, but all are non-aggressive.
Learning the language of each will take a lifetime,
But it is a labor of love, with joyous reward ...
Friendship!
Our cabin in North Carolina was built by Deborah’s mom and dad in 1983…
It rests on the side of a mountain…nestled in among the trees.
When Deborah’s dad was alive he had a garden terraced off at the bottom of the yard.
He built a pathway to this garden…to make the walk down there…not quite as hard.
This was no easy task…you have to understand…
as he molded each square out of cement…and placed them in the ground by hand.
When our family would visit in the summer time…
our children would run up and down his steps with smiles and wide eyes..
to pick vegetables and blackberries from his garden…play in the woods
or in the evening to chase fireflies….
Our grandchildren used his steps to take them to a fort we made when they were small
Our dog Whitman used his steps chasing countless tennis balls.
When Grandpa was alive he kept his steps in perfect condition…
clean with no weeds around them,…
because he knew when we would visit…our children would be running up and down them.
But Grandpa is no longer with us and our children and grandchildren have grown…
which means Grandpa’s path…once used to play on and explore…
those 41 steps that led to countless adventures…aren’t used as often anymore.
As children grow their interests change and their desires to play in the yard wane…
now on Grandpa’s path…up and down those steps…only memories remain…
But that doesn’t stop me every summer…once we arrive…
from taking a hoe a sickle and a little brush too..
and cleaning off each step on the path…just like Grandpa used to do.
It is a labor of love…making sure Grandpa’s path is as perfect as it used to be…
because on the one hand I know somewhere…Grandpa’s smiling down on me…
But I also have an ulterior motive…each year I’m on my own crusade
to make that path exactly the way it was when our children’s memories were made.
So if you happen to visit us in the summer at the cabin…
and you see an old main in the yard with a hoe, a sickle and a little brush too
Don’t be alarmed…he’s just getting an old path ready for summer…
just like Grandpa use to do.
MY FATHERS BEDSIDE GOODBYE..
His Legacy 6/24/2022
Standing on lifes fragile ledge,
I gaze
wonderingly
into your brown orbs.
Windows into a house built
By your large hands
Hands That I would now inherit.
Deep and cavernous..
oh the stories they tell.
Rooms filled with comings and going’s..
The good, and the bad..
The all encompassing Rolodex of filed away emotions.
Like a campfire burnt through the night, that turns to coals..
that light now
Dims.
And yet, the shadows we cast into this life wildly dancing
whilst your fire burnt hot,
Are seared forever into folds of gray..
Painted on a canvas
Of
Leathery past.
Your skilled artists stroke of the brush, breathing life into this color blind grey world we inhabit.
Lifetimes of adventuring..
Built upon solid foundations.
Laughter at the ready, like that of bows
drawn.
And arrows Release..taking
Flight
through the air, embedded into its mark.
Like a Cupid of life’s happenings.
Touching and seeing.
We have together, lived..
We have Loved,
We have Laughed.
Oh, how we have laughed.
We have ALL laughed.
I have heard a story, but laughter..
Your laughter..
Reaches higher than any other.
Your love language was laughter.
My life is framed,
picture worthy,
eloquently streaked with shades of infectious laughter.
We have grown older together..
Lines in the sand washed by time
Becoming that of more permanent folds in
Stone.
But I am at ease..
In troubled breaths release you slide deeper into a forever only you will truly know
until we see one another again.
Thank you for the labor of love..
The lifetime of laughters edge.
The support given to artists poundings..
Tickling of the keys,
Treading the boards of a theatre,
Lines drawn to paper.
Visionary..
you share life seen through a shifted lens.
Thank you for sharing spectacled views.
Spectacular views.
Fatherly views.
I love you, Dad..
Always..
And Forever.
i took her riding
this time my venue, not hers
she loves horses, i am no equestrian
i am beyond saddle sore now
trail rides where every bird is identified
a short illumination of the species
mine are in this little park
where we would steal away
paddle boats thru the geese and ducks
she would always pack up bread
i always gave her enough notice
so she could buy the better bread
the day-old the bakery dumps cheap
it is healthier she will tell you
i always considered myself educated
until i found her lips
Robison Crusoe washed ashore
an island of magical moments
an oeuvre in my captivated heart
my magic is in the carousel
horses that go round and round
back in line to do it again
holding onto the bar i lean in
to steal a kiss, keep her in laughter
as the music and horses dance in a wonderland
the Wurlitzer organ fills the air with a bewitchment
we join parents and children in the magic
later we retire upon a bench
from her bag appears our humble offerings
every morsel approved by the minister of health
every grain is explained by lips i so adore
the ducks and geese beg at our feet
she delights in each morsel she throws
the happiness she wears on her face
i see Mother Goose in the crowd approving
drakes and hens galore with ducklings
the beauty of joy fills her eyes
to love her is to share her
caged birds are a sad lot
such a small price to pay
ride the carousel hand in hand
the alchemy in whirling horses and music
from an age long gone now
my treasure, a moment all to myself with her
to dwell in the magic of sharing loaves
those adoring eyes watching her
are a chorus i share
the bird of paradise has no price
master of her every dream
that is the labor of love
surrounding those dreams
with the magic life holds
3/2/19 Lufkin
All but these bonds who forged ironies chain's being His servant, you are the Lord's freeman for their labor of love is not in vain Painters of mercy to the colorless lands slaves for freedom persuading the sublime captured by a noblier cause before kings The apostle Paul bound for Rome like a sign the bird still sings even with caged wings strive they to make all men free the good news like Wheatley's colonial seeds sown afresh a black slave woman with a poetical point All men are created equal all men need the savior Men can never earn merit for that which He anoints The loving Lord Jesus with His forgiving favor broke the dark bondage of sin and death's hold Rejoicing in the gift gained men can live in iron chains given freedom of life's breathe they can speak bold
TO AND IN THE NATURE OF AWARENESS GRACE
A fall morning drive presents an interesting ride.
Looking out into he roadside forest palisade,
Eyes fall upon two age-old stoic trees still clothed
In their branches’ waving illuminating green leaves:-
Like an un-blindfolded statues of liberty, they defiantly stand;
As if easel-like saying, “...a fall comes, but weilded, we will not.”
Struct by this beautiful defiant—first sight—palisade canvassing,
It’s then noticed that in between these two trees, there stood
A thin, naked—seemingly non-barked—skinny branched tree.
Her weakly appearance was if the wind should blow, poor she
And her branches would eventually become little fire-bit-chips;
Yet, just as defiantly, there she and her bowing branches stood.
Once again, nature allegorically canvas another inevitability:
The defiant survival spirit of the “have-nots” in the midst
Of the “haves” in the seasonal challenged of our daily lives.
No matter what may be the oppressive times we must bear,
Hope is the cross of crucifixion and the resurrection thereof;
Like challenged trees, we must likewise stand perpendicular
In undying hope and hope, when challenged by life’s nature:-
With this allegorical canvassing of nature’s divine wisdom and
guidance,
I continue on my drive to my precious labor of love—teaching
the children.
Beseeching, I ask God for traveling graces that I may arrive safe
and sound;
Free from harm, free from causing harm, and freely preventing
any harm.
Likewise, I give God the praises and thanks for another day
above ground;
To be in the nature of His service, by being in and of service
to fellow beings:-
You Can Do It,
Yo brotha, I know you 25,
Tryin’ to stay alive,
On the south side,
You ain’t got no friends,
Since you turned away from sin,
And the sex be callin’ you back into her arms,
It’s like there be storms of temptation,
And the elation of the game and your ego’s masturbation,
My brotha, I know you 25,
With 3 kids, 2 by one, and 1 by another,
And the weight of people’s eyes keep sendin’ lies to your soul that you ain’t no good,
And you ain’t livin’ like you should,
And seems like no matter how much you press away from wrong,
You hear that siren’s song, calling you back to the game, of neighborhood fame, the playa
with no shame,
And now, you just tryin’ to stay alive,
On the South Side,
With no ride, ridin’ the El,
Beggin Jesus to speak a spell over what feels like hell,
My brotha I know those lies,
That come from hateful eyes,
But son don’t let your heart despise you.
Cause I know you, I know your soul,
It is a jewel of dreams unseen,
And days so good they seem surreal,
My son, don’t lose that zeal that drives you.
I swear he don’t always keep the storms from fallin’,
But trust me!
Don’t stop knockin’,
Don’t stop callin’,
Don’t stop screamin’, that name Jesus!
I can’t tell you that my life is heaven,
Or that I’m great like the magnificent seven,
But I’ve walked a little way in this labor of love we pay,
So that all will love one day,
So just let me say,
Don’t give your hope away,
Cause brother I know,
And your Lord’s still got some tricks to show,
So don’t let you fervor go,
Cause you can do it!!!
MY MODEL PLANE
Way back, when I was 12 years old,
I built a model airplane with my Dad,
It was a great experience, but most of all,
We spent some time together, and for that I was glad.
The plane was built from balsa wood and paper,
With a rubber band running from propeller to tail,
It was a labor of love for about 2 weeks,
When we finished it, it was time to exhale.
It was displayed in my room on top of my dresser,
This was not just considered a toy,
But this was a project that I was proud of,
And I considered it as my pride and joy.
Well, about 2 weeks later, it was moving day,
From our 2nd floor apartment on E. 8th St.
We drove about 5 miles in our ’49 Plymouth,
To our 12th floor apartment on W. 5th St.
The only way I could protect the plane was,
To put it on the rear shelf of the car,
I guarded my model, made sure it didn’t move,
Even though the trip wasn’t really that far.
Well , I got my plane home in one piece,
And displayed it in my brand new room,
But I was told by my Mom & Dad to continue working,
So, unpacking my stuff I resumed.
One day I had a bright idea,
I wanted to see if my plane would fly,
So I turned the propeller, the rubber band twisted tight,
And what happened next made me want to cry.
I turned the propeller 1 last time,
And the plane then snapped in 2,
Then I thought to myself, Oh my God,
What the hell did I just do?
I never saw my Dad laugh so hard,
And there is just 1 thing left to say,
A promising career as an aircraft engineer,
Came to an abrupt halt that day.
LABOR OF LOVE THOUGHTS ON AWARENESS OF
THE NEEDS OF SELF AND THOSE OF OTHERS
Hey there, where you are now, I feel more than you can know;
In my life’s time, I too, have been there many times before:-
Now, in awareness, I’ve learned that you just have to be the real you;
Not endeavoring to be that other person that no way could ever be true:-
If you can, please give me a few seconds of your precious time,
And I promise the following will be more than mere entertaining rhymes:-
Listen, stop wallowing in defecating negative thoughts of who you are;
Strive on to be that beautiful, worthy being that God has created:-
Consider it this way: The food that you consider worthless
And thoughtlessly throw away, can, in more positive ways,
Become a nourishing blessing for those garbaging for nourishment;
Thus, give God the praise, glory, and thanksgiving, for your worthiness:-
Flush down the negative thoughts and wipe away dirty self negations;
Lay, sit, nor kneel in darkness, but in the light of God's divine wisdom :-
Hey—one more second—no longer be as a once lost wandering sheep;
You are young, and gifted to be a successful reborn Lamb of God’s grace:-
Go now—live in this loving grace—and be in labors of love to self and to others;
Go now, and be a worthy patron of God’s peace, and a reflector of His love:-
You can’t love others without loving self in thanksgiving to the Creator:-
Now go and look into the mirror and see love’s divine beauty looking back at you;